


mine

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hunter is Jemma's Backup in HYDRA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Jemma Simmons end up in a closet with Bakshi's bodyguard, Lance Hunter. Whatever could go wrong?
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019





	mine

Jemma Simmons had never been locked in a supply closet before.

She had also, therefore, never been locked in a supply closet with someone she was extremely attracted to.

This was turning out to be a bad day.

Of course, it would’ve been a bad day even without getting locked in a supply closet, considering her cover at HYDRA had been blown. In fact, if she hadn’t been shoved into said closet, her day might’ve been even worse. Bakshi would’ve caught her and she would’ve been brainwashed until she actually believed the shite HYDRA spoon fed to people.

But Lance Hunter had swooped in to save her, and now she was alone in a dark closet with him, trying hard not to breathe in too much of his cologne. 

On the bright side, at least her crush on Bakshi’s bodyguard was less problematic, considering he wasn’t actually a Nazi hell-bent on destroying everything she loved. Small victories.

“They’ll finish the security sweep in thirty minutes,” Hunter said under his breath. “When they don’t find us then they’ll assume we escaped.”

“And then what?” Jemma whispered back. They _hadn’t_ escaped.

“Then we make a run for it when there’s fewer guards in the hall,” Hunter said. Jemma couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she assumed from his tone he was rolling his eyes. “Coulson has a team waiting for us on the roof. Shielded. They’ll be fine until we can get to them.”

Jemma swallowed back her protests. A part of her wished she could continue staying at HYDRA, where she didn’t have to deal with the team and their guilty looks and -

“Fine.” She whispered, moving a half-step back until she was pressed against the thick wood of the supply room door. She needed space from Hunter and his warmth and his distracting smell. She needed space, period, but that wasn’t likely to happen for a while yet.

“Best not to use your phone,” Hunter warned before Jemma could take the device out of her pocket. “Doubt they could ping it accurately enough to find us, but better safe than sorry.”

Jemma sighed. “What am I supposed to do for the next half hour then?” She refused to just sit in terror, waiting to make sure they weren’t discovered.

“Up to you, love. I, for one, am going to be celebrating our escape from the jaws of death.”

Jemma snorted. “We haven’t escaped yet.”

“Optimistic, aren’t you?”

“You try being optimistic after spending six months here!” She bristled. Jemma had seen horrible things, things she wasn’t looking forward to repeating to Coulson for her debrief - things she wasn’t pleased with having to have in her head for the rest of her life.

“I _have_ spent six months here. Longer, actually.” Hunter’s voice had smoothed into something like glass. It sounded oddly… predatory. Dangerous. A shiver ran up Jemma’s spine and a familiar ache settled between her thighs. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. Of course. If Hunter was her backup, he’d need to be in place long before she was. 

“It’s alright.” Clothing rustled, and Jemma presumed Hunter had settled himself on the floor of the closet. “I have training for this. You don’t.”

Jemma couldn’t argue with him on that. She had never intended to go into the field, let alone undercover. She knew Coulson was doing his best, but she was ill-prepared to deal with… well, everything other than the scientific part of her job.

“What training?” she asked, trying valiantly to ignore how Hunter’s voice was stoking the flame in her belly. She couldn’t remember the last time she had touched herself - the paranoia of possibly being watched by HYDRA was a bit of a mood killer - and having the object of her attraction just a few feet away wasn’t helping her sparking libido.

“Military.” An image of Hunter in a uniform sprang to Jemma’s mind unbidden, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a whimper. The uniform he wore at HYDRA was tantalizing enough. Black and red, cut close enough to his body to show off the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips, but loosely enough to allow him to move - it screamed _evil croney_ , but also whispered _fuck me_. 

Jemma was good at listening to whispers.

“Interesting,” she managed to eke out of her dry throat.

Hunter didn’t respond, and Jemma took the next minutes to compose herself. Her center had gone from aching to throbbing, every beat of her racing heart sending another pulse of desire racing between her legs. Each time she breathed in she caught another whiff of Hunter, and the low light was allowing her imagination to run wild.

A single beeping sound cracked open the silence, and Jemma stiffened, feeling oddly like a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Come on,” Hunter grunted, reaching past her for the doorknob. The brush of his hand against her shoulder was bad enough, but then he looped his fingers around her wrist and began tugging her down the hallway. He didn’t need to explain for Jemma to understand they were finally making their grand escape.

“Head down,” Hunter reminded her under his breath as he led her to the stairwell. He released his grip when Jemma began heading up the stairs, but the memory of it was still seared into her skin. Even when they reached the Quinjet and she was greeted by Agent May, Jemma couldn’t stop thinking about Hunter and his hands and his everything else.

First order of business when she got back? Relieve some of the tension.

\---

Unfortunately for Jemma, it was several long hours later when she was finally alone enough to achieve what she desired. By then everything had fizzled out, and her attempt in the shower to bring herself relief had instead only brought frustration. 

Someone knocked on the door, and Jemma went to answer, still running a comb through her hair and silently fuming about her inability to get off.

Naturally, it had to be none other than Hunter himself at the door. His eyes skimmed down her body, and Jemma was suddenly aware of how she hadn’t bothered to put a bra on after her shower. She was just in her pajama shorts and an old tee, braless and knickerless - though she sincerely hoped Hunter wasn’t aware of the latter.

“Settling in well?” Hunter asked after a moment.

“I should be asking you that.” Jemma stepped out of the doorway, inviting Hunter into her room. He only stepped far enough into the threshold to allow the door to shut behind him. Jemma returned to her bed and set her comb down on the side table.

“Got some bad news, but I’ll survive,” Hunter said, peering curiously around her room. It was sparse - sparser than she’d like to admit - but Jemma hadn’t been at the Playground long enough for it to feel like home before she left for HYDRA.

“Good.” Jemma swallowed, awkwardness settling upon her.

“Did you get to talk to your boy?” 

“He’s not my boy,” Jemma answered, probably too quickly. “I… He and I are better as friends.”

Hunter wandered a little closer to the bed. “Are you just saying that?”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m obviously interested in you?” Hunter countered.

Jemma’s jaw went slack.

“Oh, love.” Hunter said, running a hand over his face. “You really didn’t notice?”

Jemma _had_ noticed Hunter looking at her, when they were back in HYDRA - it was part of why she had developed a crush on him in the first place. Having a handsome man look at you with the intensity Hunter had looked at her did things to a girl and her ego. In their one-minute journey from the station to the hall closet she had rationalized it all as Hunter being focused on her because he was assigned to protect her. Any romantic overtones she had sensed were just his cover story, his reason for looking at her that had nothing to do with S.H.I.E.L.D.

Or maybe not.

“I…” Jemma couldn’t find the words. She wanted Hunter to keep moving closer, but he had halted again.

“It’s alright, Jemma,” Hunter said softly. “I’ll go.”

“No,” Jemma croaked, trying to find her voice. “Come here.”

Hunter obeyed, waiting at the edge of her bed until Jemma gestured for him to sit. She scooted as close to him as she dared, pressing her thigh against his. He was wearing baggy jeans and a white cotton tank top that was doing too much to show off the spectacular muscles of his arms. Jemma was lucky she hadn’t noticed his attire when she first opened the door, or she would’ve probably died on the spot. At least now she knew why he had given her the once-over.

“What do you want from me?” Hunter asked, his eyes blazing hazel and gold.

Jemma answered by crushing her lips against his. Hunter’s mouth opened immediately, hot and hungry under hers. Jemma reached a hand up to cradle his cheek, his stubble rough against her palm. The dance of lips and teeth and tongue was intoxicating, and it awakened a fever in Jemma she hadn’t felt since she was fourteen and first discovering how good touching herself could feel.

“Put your hand up my shirt,” Jemma instructed, throwing her leg over Hunter’s hip and pushing him back against the bed. He did as he was told, fingers splaying out over her ribs before sliding up to cup at her breast. Her mouth was already on his again when he pinched at her nipple, and she responded by biting his lower lip and sucking it into her mouth. Their hips pushed together, Jemma’s clit rubbing against the bulge in Hunter’s jeans.

“Uh,” Hunter stuttered when Jemma broke the kiss. He was staring up at her, slightly bewildered. “What do you want?”

Jemma considered the question briefly. She wanted to make out with Hunter, she wanted to grind on him until they were both so turned on it hurt, but most of all, she wanted to cum on him - his hands, his cock, his mouth, whatever he wanted. Possibly all three. 

“An orgasm.” Jemma was aware of how inadequate the answer was, but Hunter didn’t seem to care. She had all but given him a gold-plated invitation, and his hand that wasn’t up her shirt quickly found its way to the waistband of her sleep shorts. He either didn’t register the lack of knickers or didn’t care, his hand expertly finding her entrance and pressing against the hot flesh there.

“Aa-aah,” Jemma breathed, suddenly uncertain in her ability to hold herself up over Hunter as he slid two of his fingers into her. It had been too long since she had felt this - too long since she had been touched by someone else. Hunter curled his fingers slightly and Jemma’s walls spasmed around him, the change in pressure doing indescribable things to her insides.

“That’s it, love, you’re okay,” Hunter soothed as she gave up the fight and collapsed against his chest. “Gonna make you feel good, alright? Gonna keep you safe.”

Jemma’s pussy clenched involuntarily. She hadn’t been safe in so long.

“I know, sweetheart,” Hunter murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he continued pumping his fingers. “You’re so beautiful like this, my little spy.” The words sent a whip of white across her vision. _His._ They hadn’t even been properly acquainted for eight hours but Jemma was _his_ and she liked it.

“Fuck,” Jemma groaned. “Fuck, again.”

“What’s that?” Hunter asked, scraping his teeth down the side of her neck - not hard enough to leave a mark, but certainly hard enough for Jemma to feel. “You like being mine, huh? My Jemma? My little spy?”

He twisted his wrist just so, and Jemma fell apart around his fingers. He kept pumping his hand even as her pussy fluttered around him, and Jemma groaned as she felt a second orgasm rushing towards her. 

“Too much,” she gasped, just before she fell over the edge again. Despite what she said, though, it wasn’t too much - it wasn’t enough, and she slid her hand down to frantically circle her clit, a wave of relief crashing through her as she found satisfaction in cumming for a second time.

When she came back to herself she was still on top of Hunter.

“Jemma,” he whispered. “You like being mine?”

“Only if you’re mine, too,” Jemma answered, swallowing hard as she withdrew her hand from her shorts. “I want to belong to something,” she admitted. It was natural, she told herself, to want to belong somewhere, or to someone. She couldn’t be an island forever, even if she had managed to ruin the one relationship that used to mean the most to her.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t enough?”

“No.” The truth was surprisingly easy to admit. “It used to be, but it’s not anymore.” She had grappled with her feelings too much while she was at HYDRA. She still loved S.H.I.E.L.D., still believed in it and its cause, and sure as hell would still work for it, but she didn’t _belong_ to it the way she had before. She couldn’t trust S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore - not after what had happened. Trust was a necessary part of belonging.

She could trust Lance Hunter.

“Okay?” Hunter rumbled beneath her.

“Yeah.” Jemma pressed her hands into his chest, propping herself back up. His hands slid to her arse, gently guiding her hips forward so she could rub her crotch against the length of his erection.

“Do you…?” he asked, uncertain. Jemma bent down to kiss the corner of his mouth, rocking her hips forward again.

“You’re clean?” she confirmed, lips still close to his skin.

Hunter nodded, his breath catching in his throat when Jemma ground down into him.

“Then yes.” Her hand was already working at the button on his jeans, then the zipper. Hunter’s cock made an impressive tent in his boxers, but it was even more impressive when it was freed. Jemma groaned, the flushed length of Hunter’s cock winding her tighter than she’d like to admit. Hunter had managed to tug her shorts down around her thighs, but Jemma regretfully had to climb off him so she could sling them off her legs entirely, giving her the range of movement she needed.

Hunter’s hands were immediately back on her hips when she kneeled on top of him again.

“Mine?” he asked warily, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

“Yours,” Jemma agreed, taking his cock and pressing the tip of it against her slick hole. Maybe it was a mistake, to give herself to someone she barely knew. This felt like more than just sex, even if she couldn’t put her finger on why.

Jemma guided the rest of his cock into her, eyes rolling back in her head at the exquisite burn of being filled to the brim. A part of her wished she could stay like this forever, but a much larger part of her was insisting she _move_.

Move she did, carefully lifting and lowering herself on Hunter’s cock. He was entirely at her mercy, unable to do more than move his hips up in tiny half-thrusts as she lowered herself down. His hands on her hips were digging in, and Jemma was sure she’d have thumbprint bruises on her skin come morning.

 _Yours._ Jemma gasped out a breath at the thought, peering down at Hunter as she quickened her pace. He was focused on her with an unfamiliar intensity, but one she could get used to. The muscles in his chest rippled beneath her hands, tensing and releasing with each thrust. His breathing grew ragged the longer they continued, and Jemma knew hers was doing the same. 

She ran her fingers through Hunter’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. The motion drew a moan from him that sent Jemma careening towards orgasm.

“Mine,” Jemma growled, leaning forward to sink her teeth into the joint of Hunter’s neck and shoulder.

He let out a shout as he released into her, and Jemma stifled her own scream into his skin when she came.

“Mine, mine, mine.” Hunter was filled with a single-minded purpose as he nibbled a line up Jemma’s neck. His cock was softening inside her but neither were willing to move - not when he was still marking her.

“Why are we doing this?” Jemma breathed between laving kisses on the bruise forming where she’d bit Hunter. She didn’t understand her sudden possessiveness, and it terrified her.

“Don’t know.” Hunter licked a stripe up her neck, soothing the tiny red marks on her skin. “Don’t care.”

“You should,” Jemma reprimanded, pulling herself off his cock.

Hunter whimpered at the loss of contact, then pulled himself together. “All I need to know is if it’s just something for you to get off to, or something you really feel.”

“Can’t it be both?” Jemma wouldn’t deny she found marking and being marked desperately arousing, but she also wouldn’t deny she felt a connection to Hunter beyond just sex. She was hoping it was also beyond him saving her and her gratitude to him for that, but there was only one way to discover that for sure.

Hunter leaned up to kiss her, softer than he had before. Jemma accepted the kiss and returned in kind, cautious and gentle and (dare she say?) sweet.

“Tomorrow,” Hunter whispered when Jemma broke away, “I get to be on top.”

His eyes flashed with the same sort of predatory hunger she had heard in his voice in the supply closet, and Jemma laughed.

“Yes, my Hunter,” she hummed. 

_My Hunter_. 

She liked that.


End file.
